


The Witch of Wartwood

by Mantis21



Category: Amphibia (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Magic, Slice of Life, Some Sprigivy, set during season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mantis21/pseuds/Mantis21
Summary: Two short one-shots glued together about life in Wartwood through the eyes of Maddie Flour as she uses her magic to help Mrs. Croaker with a mouse problem and to help Ivy get something nice for Sprig.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	The Witch of Wartwood

**Author's Note:**

> I've written two Amphibia stories so far yet haven't focused much on the Amphibians themselves lol. This story is meant to rectify that, as well as just giving me a chance to write about best frog.

Maddie Flour reached up to a shelf above her head and grabbed a small wooden bowl filled with dark purple powder. Tongue plastered to her upper lip, she measured the exact amount she needed with surgical precision. When she seemed satisfied, she put the rest of the powder back in place and stirred what she had taken in with other ingredients in a larger bowl. Those others ingredients were diverse, ranging from thorny flower stems to the gooey yolk of a heron egg.

Maddie stirred and stirred with dedication; this was the most important part of the whole process. She needed to be as careful as she could possibly be...

“Honey, the Mayor’s here to see ya!”

Maddie shrieked in surprise and jumped in fright. Her knee hit her stirring bowl's bottom, and she watched in terror as it slipped from the table and fell to the ground...

Luckily, just before her mixture spilled uselessly on the floor, her father caught the bowl in his large hands, saving her hard work.

Maddie sighed in relief. “Thanks Daddy,” she said. Her gratitude came out as a husky whisper, but Mr. Flour knew his daughter’s voice well enough to know she was elated.

“No problem, honey. After all these years of being a chef, I’ve learned to react fast when something's about to spill.”

He handed the mixing bowl back to his daughter, who placed it safely on the table, far from the edge. As much as she wanted to continue her work, she knew her father wouldn’t interrupt her unless it was for something important.

“So what was it you said? I didn’t hear on account of the whole screaming thing,” she said.

Mr. Flour pointed over his shoulder, to the front door of their bakery. “Mayor Toadstool’s at the front door. Said he wants to talk to ya.”

“Toadstool? Ugh.” She rolled her one visible eye. “He’s probably going to ask me for some magic to help him brainwash voters for the next election. Tell him I’m busy.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. From the way he was talking, he seemed like he had an actual problem he needed your help with this time.”

Maddie rubbed her chin, mulling it over. Her curiosity was piqued. Plus, this would give her a prime chance to creep him out, and only a foolish witch would turn that opportunity down.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him,” she decided. “Who knows? Maybe this is something that’ll actually be good for the community.”

She went to the front door and opened it, and the, er, _sizable_ frame of Mayor Toadstool greeted her. Her elected official bared down on her with a smile that she immediately recognized as phony. On either side of him were his lackeys, Toadie and a new intern whose name she didn't know.

“Maddie Flour, as I live and breathe!” Mayor Toadstool spoke in a high falsetto, as artificial as it was enthusiastic. “Seems like just yesterday when your old buddy Toadstool—”

“Yeah, yeah, first things first,” interrupted Maddie. She pointed at Toadie and said, “If you want to live, stay away from the tree at the side of the river for the next two weeks.” Before Toadie had time to look alarmed, she turned to the other one. “And you better quit now, while you’re ahead. If you don’t, an undercover reporter’s going to find out all about your _charitable donations_. And then you’re going to die. Alone.”

That did it for them. Maddie and Mayor Toadstool watched as his two cohorts ran off into the distance, shrieking and flailing. The former grinned lopsidedly; the latter shook his head like a disappointed schoolteacher.

“Honestly, Maddie, do you have to scare poor Toadie every single time we come by?”

“Yes,” she answered bluntly. “Plus I did you a favor with the other one. It would’ve been a real public scandal if he spent a few more days with you...and with your tax collection box.”

“Well, er, I suppose I oughta be thanking you,” said Toadstool, adjusting his jacket and trying to recapture some of his bold swagger. Clearing his throat, he continued, “But I didn’t come here so you could chase off my assistants. Truth is, I have a problem that only you can help with.”

Maddie crossed her arms. "What kind of problem?"

“Well, it’s not really me with the problem; it’s Mrs. Croaker, on the other side of town.”

Maddie’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. If this had been another personal call from Toadstool, she would’ve gladly went back inside and gotten back to her potion, but if it was really farmers that needed her help...well, what was her magic for if not for helping the people who needed the help?

“Okay,” she said. “So what’s the problem?”

“Pest problem,” he answered. “You see, she don’t grow veggies, her operation is all about making some of the finest cowapillar cheese in the whole valley. And there’s two types in Amphibia that really like cheese; Newtopian royalty, and...”

He trailed off to let her finish his sentence. Maddie tried to recall who else really liked cowapillar cheese, and snapped her fingers when she reached her answer. “Mice!”

The mayor nodded. “Mhm. Mice. Well, just one mouse in this case, thankfully, but...well, you know how big those mice can get. Just one mouse could eat a whole barn full of cheese and still be hungry enough for seconds.”

“Did anyone try chasing it off?”

“Would I be here if they didn’t?” He sounded annoyed that he had to clarify. “But yes, some of the other farmers tried the whole torches and pitchforks things, but that mouse ain’t budging. I was hoping...er, _the farmers_ were hoping that maybe you had some kind of magic hocus pocus that could help them out.”

Maddie’s eye twitched slightly. She was clearly annoyed with the ‘hocus pocus’ remark. But she let it slide, reminding herself what was really important here.

That was when an idea hit here. “Wait here, I think I might have the solution.” She quickly dove back inside, and Toadstool stood there patiently as he heard the young frog run to the back of the house and quickly back to the front door. When she re-emerged from behind the door, she wore a rare childish smile as she proudly presented her bowl of violet mixture.

“Oh wow,” said Toadstool. “That’s very, uh...what is it, exactly?”

“It’s what I’ve been working on all day. It’s a shrinking potion,” she explained. “Once the mouse comes in contact with this, it won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Well that’s just fantastic, little Miss Maddie. Now just give it on here—”

“Can’t do that,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not ready yet. You interrupted me just as I was applying the finishing touches.”

“But...but...but I need this mouse taken care of right now!” exclaimed Toadstool.

Maddie’s eye narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you need this right now?”

“Well, um, because I care about poor Mrs. Croaker and her cowapillars. Why, it just breaks my heart to think—”

“I'm young, but I wasn’t born yesterday, Toadstool,” said Maddie, unimpressed. She set the bowl behind her and crossed her arms. “Tell me why you really want me to help you out here, or I won’t help.”

It was an impotent threat—Maddie would never abandon someone who needed her help so badly—but Toadstool didn’t know that. And even if he suspected her threat was empty, he couldn’t take the risk. That was one of the benefits that Maddie found came with keeping up a creepy aura; it kept you unpredictable and hard to manipulate.

The large frog sighed. “Have mercy on me, child.” When this appeal to pathos failed, he threw his hands up in air. “Alright, fine! The truth is that we might be getting a fancy visitor from Newtopia sometime this week, and I want to make sure I have some of that good cheese to present them. I already told you how much they love that stuff!”

Maddie scowled. She wanted to be disappointed, but to be disappointed would imply she had faith in him from the start. Moments like these were often with Toadstool, and every time she felt like she understood more and more why her grandparents had joined the old Anarchist Movement.

But a promise was a promise. “Maybe I can get enough potion to defeat the mouse before sunset,” she said. “And then, tomorrow morning, Mrs. Croaker’s unwelcome guest will be gone.”

“Thank you, Maddie. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”

He turned around to leave, but Maddie’s hand shot out quickly and grabbed his sleeve. She pulled him down towards her, and stared deeply into his eyes.

“One last thing: I’ve seen your future, Toadstool. No one will come to your funeral,” she wheezed.

To her surprise, the bullfrog sighed. “I know,” he said in a low voice.

* * *

At the crack of dawn of the next morning, Maddie crept out of her bedroom window with a small angular vial in her hands, and broke into a run in the direction of Croaker Dairy. The sun had yet to rise, so everything was still dark, and in the darkness the tall buildings around her seemed imposing and baleful. The whole world sat still in ominous quietude, where even the crickets didn’t chirp.

Maddie loved the atmosphere at this time.

But even for the normies, it wasn’t all bad: there was a mistiness in the air that made it cool and refreshing on Maddie’s soft and slimy skin. And while the crickets were absent, the fireflies still floated around, gently swaying back and forth as they flickered their golden tails against the dark.

Once she was sure no one was around, Maddie allowed herself a little giggle.

When she made it to Croaker Dairy, she found Mrs. Croaker herself standing by the door, probably waiting for her. Maddie approached while adjusting her throat to keep her voice at the level of gravelly that she liked.

“Hello, Mrs. Croaker,” she rasped.

The old woman looked down at her with her cataract-carrying eye. “What? Who’s there? Who said that?”

Maddie blinked in surprise, until she remembered how dark it was. Sighing, she cast a quick spell that made her hand glow. “It’s me, Maddie,” she said.

Seeing the half illuminated frogling in the dark, Mrs. Croaker smiled. “Oh, Maddie, dearie, how nice of you to finally come. Thank you so much for doing this.”

“It’s no problem,” she insisted. “It’s like my grandfather always said: mutual aid is what keeps us functional. I’m just sorry that I had to have you wake up so soon.”

Mrs. Croaker waved her hand dismissively. “I’m always up this early. That’s the life of a farmer. Do you have the spell?”

Maddie nodded, and showed her the vial. It was slim and small, but the potion that swished within was enough to shrink even something as mighty as a wyvernous dragonfly. A mouse stood no chance.

As a bonus, the vial was made from obsidian glass, which was blackish purple, which was Maddie’s favorite color. It was a keeper.

“Well, I prepared the cheese you wanted me to,” she said. “Shame it’ll all be going to waste. It’s good cheese.”

“Sacrifices are necessary in the line of duty. I would know; I sometimes talk to ghosts that died on the battlefield.”

That was when Mrs. Croaker decided she would get out of Maddie’s way.

Maddie went around the barn and found a fat pile of cheese waiting for her in the open clearing. Thankfully, it was untouched, but that only told Maddie she had limited time before the mouse arrived. She sprinted to the cheese and quickly sprayed the cheese with the contents of her vial. She then spied a bush nearby and quickly hopped into it, then lay low as she awaited her prey.

It didn’t take too long; the ground began to shake to the rhythm of steps. Out from the vegetative brush came a hulking mass of fur and muscle. Its face was long and lean, its ears round but injured in places, its paws equipped with sharp nails, and it had a stretching tail behind it that resembled a flailing pink earthworm.

The mouse had arrived.

Its gigantic nose rose into the air and sniffed. Maddie had made sure to spray herself with a scent-concealment spell before she left, but she still felt slightly nervous as the mammalian beast looked around. She only relaxed when it saw the cheese, let out a happy roar of a squeak, and ran towards it.

When the monster bit into it, Maddie pumped her fist. “Yes,” she whispered.

The mouse’s tongue lapped up all the remnant cheese that stuck to its chipped, yellow teeth. It seemed like it was just about to leave when, suddenly, its stomach growled loudly. The monster whined in pain, then widened its eyes as it felt the most peculiar feeling.

It felt like it was...shrinking.

Within seconds, the mouse had gone from normal size to half its size to small enough to fit in a frog’s hand. Which was exactly what happened next, as Maddie came by and scooped the now tiny mouse off the ground and held it in her palm. “Hello little buddy,” she said. She meant to sound calming and maternal, but her intentions clashed with her coarse tone, and the mouse screamed in pure horror. It tried to flee, but Maddie held onto it just in time.

“You’re going to get eaten out there at your new size,” she told the furry little creature. “Like it or not, you’re coming with me.”

The mouse made a chittering noise of refusal. Maddie, not able to speak to mice, took it as agreement instead and pressed the mouse to her face. She meant to cuddle it but ending up mostly smearing her amphibian secretions (read: slime) all over its brown fur.

“We’re going to be great friends,” she told the rodent. “I’ll need to think of a name for you. Until then, I’ll call you Mouse. Mouse is a good name.”

She carried Mouse gently as she went to search for Mrs. Croaker. When she found her, she presented the shrunken mammal to her, and she looked at it in bemused puzzlement. She then cackled loudly and slapped her knee. “I’ve seen a lot in my long life,” she declared, “but I didn’t think I’d ever see something as unreal as a small mouse.” She wiped a tear from her eye, and patted Maddie on the head. “Thank you. You’ve been a real help.”

Maddie couldn’t stop herself from blushing. It was a nice moment, so she made the decision not to ruin it by mentioning how a Mad Cowapillar Disease epidemic was about to strike Croaker Dairy.

Maybe she’d bring it up another time.

* * *

With a job well done under her belt (or, to be more precise, the rope she wore as a belt) Maddie began her walk home. She took Mouse with her, carrying him—she felt like it was a him—by his stringy tail. At first, the small rodent tried to fight back and have her carry him properly, but eventually he figured his struggle was futile and allowed himself to be dangled like a toy.

Maddie hummed, and though her humming was terribly off-tune, it made a small bird nearby start singing along.

“Maddie! Hey Maddie!”

Maddie stopped in her tracks, and turned her head like an owl. She blinked as a figure about her size approached her. It was still a little too dark to make out who it was, but as they stepped closed, Maddie recognized that patchwork hat and those baggy overalls.

“Hey Ivy,” she said as Ivy Sundew came to her side.

Ivy looked down at Maddie’s hand, noticing something in it. “What have you got there?” she asked, curious. Her feelings quickly changed from curious to mortified when Maddie held up Mouse to her face.

“This is Mouse,” she said casually. “He’s a mouse.”

“Wait...that’s a mouse?” Ivy’s head turned to the side, studying it from all angles. “I’ve never seen a mouse so small before.”

“I made him this small. With magic.”

Her eyes lit up with the last word.

“How...interesting,” said Ivy, trying and failing to hide how weirded out she suddenly felt. _Maybe this is a bad idea,_ she thought. _Maybe she won’t want to help me. Or she might not be able to..._

“Well, I don’t know if I’ll be able to if you don’t tell me what it is,” said Maddie, “but I’m always willing to help.”

Ivy hopped back, her eyes wide with fright. “Dude, did you just...read my mind?”

Maddie nodded as if it weren’t a big deal. Ivy frowned. “Uncle Felix was right. I shouldn’t have thrown that tinfoil hat he gave me away.”

“Oh, don’t worry, that wouldn’t have stopped me anyway,” said Maddie in her unnerving monotone.

“Okay, okay, it doesn’t matter,” said Ivy frantically. “I just need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

Ivy’s face turned a dark shade of red. She tried covering it with her hat, but it only became redder, until her head looked almost like a beet. She mumbled something into her hat, and Maddie leaned in closer. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“ _I...I want your help m-making something n-nice for...for Sprig._ ”

“Sprig?” Maddie repeated the name of her close male friend...who was just a friend to her and nothing more. “You want me to help you make something nice for Sprig?”

Ivy bashfully nodded.

“Explain yourself.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, Ivy removed her hat from in front of her face and put it back on top of her head. She scratched the back of her head, and put her weight on either foot unevenly. She was clearly awkward, which surprised Maddie; from a distance, Ivy looked like the most confident and upfront frog in the world.

“Okay, so...ever since Sprig and his family left to Newtopia—”

“They went to Newtopia?”

“Wait, is this news to you?”

Maddie furrowed her brow, and rubbed her chin in thought. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him, his family, or his strange featherless biped pet in a while. She blinked as she came to the realization that he had gone, and she hadn’t noticed.

“Huh,” she said intelligently.

“Anyway,” continued Ivy, “ever since they left, I’ve been thinking about having a present for him for when he returns. It has to be something really cool and special, though. Something stranger than all the strange things he’s probably seeing out there in the world.”

“Oh, things are strange out there. Did you know there’s an island out there made from the decaying body of a titan where all kinds of witches and monsters live? No, wait, I’m thinking of another universe...unless...”

“Maddie, focus!” exclaimed an exasperated Ivy. “I want to ask your help in making something cool for Sprig when he returns. Can you please help me?”

Maddie shrugged. “Yeah sure.”

“I know I don’t have much and you have no reason to want to h—wait, what?”

“Yeah sure,” she repeated. “I’ll help.”

Ivy was surprised by how easily she was convinced to help, but she wasn’t about to look a gift beetle in the mouth. Smiling graciously, she grabbed Maddie’s arm and raced off, dragging the witch back to her house.

When they reached her room, Ivy sat Maddie down in a small wooden chair and sat on the table next to her. She shook with manic energy; she was anxious but also really excited. Or perhaps excited in her anxiousness. Emotional reality was a complicated space to wade through.

Slapping her knees, Ivy declared, “Brainstorming time! What would someone coming home from a long travel like?”

Maddie thought about it. “If I went away for a while, I’d be really happy if my dad presented a shrunken head to me.”

Ivy winced. “Um, that’s an idea, but I was thinking something more along the lines of—”

“Oh, oh, I know! How about a voodoo doll of yourself? In fact, I think I made one of you. I can go home and check if you want.”

“N-No, I don’t think so,” said an increasingly uncomfortable Ivy. Voodoo doll of herself? She definitely didn’t want to know what Maddie needed a voodoo doll of her for. “Maybe we should start simple, and go up from there. How about a card? Maybe a magical card?”

“With fangs?”

“More like with a voice.”

“Doesn’t seem as cool as fangs, but okay.” Maddie scratched the top of her head, wondering if she could even do that. It wouldn’t be hard to do, but sometimes simple spells were deceptively so. Magic, not being bound by any rules or rhythm, could make turning a frog into a bird an easy task while changing the color of your wallpaper a hard one. It was an unpredictable, fickle force in the world.

Still, no matter how hard it would be, she figured she’d be able to manage it before Sprig returned. “Okay, I think I can do it," said Maddie. "What would you want your card to say?”

“Hmm...how about a simple ‘Welcome Home’? Uh, and also calling him a loser, I don’t want him to think I missed him too much or anything.”

Maddie didn’t understand what the big deal was— _But you did miss him,_ she wanted to say—but what she did understand was that friendships between boys and girls were sometimes complicated. She should know; her friendship with Sprig was built on the grave of an arranged marriage cut down before anything came of it. Did she want to go through with that marriage? Maybe, maybe not, she wasn’t too sure now. But what was past was past, and now she had a nice complicated friendship with her former hubby, and it sounded like Ivy had a complicated friendship with him too...unless...

“Um, Ivy?”

“Yes, Maddie?”

“What does Sprig...mean to you exactly?” asked Maddie in uncharacteristically cautious fashion.

Ivy blinked. “Is this for the card?”

“Sure,” she fibbed.

“Well, I guess you haven’t heard.” Ivy blushed again, a softer blush this time, and she smiled gingerly. Her hand brushed through her orange hair. “Me and Sprig, we’re...well, we’re together.”

“Together?” croaked Maddie. “Like...together together?”

The tomboyish frog nodded.

“Oh...I didn’t know that.”

“He didn’t mention it to you?”

“Nope, he didn’t.” Before Ivy could say another word, Maddie leaped up from her chair and patted her hands together. “Well, now that I know, I think what we should do is go to the store, find a good card there, and cast some magic to make it say what's on the paper. Sound good? Let’s go.”

“Really? Maddie, that sounds great...wait”—Ivy’s eyes narrowed—“these aren’t going to be weird cards with someone ripping a bloody heart out of their chest on them, are they?”

Maddie shook her head impatiently.

“Well okay, then,” said Ivy as she stood up too. “Let’s go.”

* * *

_Does Ivy not know?_

Maddie’s pupil darted back and forth, from the girl strolled casually by her side (hands in her pockets like she didn’t have a care in the world) to the rest of Wartwood, to the farmers and townspeople walking in and out of her life as they went about theirs.

The question remained: did Ivy know? Did Ivy know that she and Sprig had once been engaged? Did Sprig even mention her to his new girlfriend? And most importantly...did it even matter?

Her and Sprig had broken it off on good terms. They were friends now, and she felt that’s how it was supposed to be. So because of that she didn’t mind, but...for some reason, she could never really convince herself that Sprig breaking up with her was really a good thing. That nagging feeling at the back of her mind that their failed engagement actually did bother her deep down...it had only gotten stronger as time went on.

She didn’t even realize it, but she had been ignoring her feelings this whole time. It was like a wound under a bandage, festering but mostly hidden, until Ivy came to rip it off without meaning to.

But did that mean she was in love with Sprig? Her cheeks turned warm and purple, but she shook off her blush like a cowapillar shaking off bugbears. No, she couldn’t be...could she?

She sighed. “I know what lies in the depths of the oceans, but I don’t know what lurks in my depths.”

Ivy turned to her. “Did you say something?”

“I’ve seen the worst day of your life,” responded Maddie, “and it will be grim, it will be devastating, and it will be...watery.”

“O-Oh...”

That killed the conversation until they got to the store.

The shelf that held the cards wasn’t very large; in fact, it only held about nine cards. Ivy immediately dismissed the six of them that were about birthdays or getting sick (she also had to swat Maddie’s hand when she went to pick up one of the sick ones), so she scooped up the three that were left and showed them off to her companion.

“Honest opinion time, Maddie.” She held up the first card, which displayed a tall tree with two frogs cuddling underneath. “Do you think this card is good?”

_Alright, Maddie, put your own feelings aside. Ivy asked for your help, and that’s what matters the most._

Maddie nodded determinedly, and took the card from Ivy. She opened it up, and an amused grin crawled on her face.

“Oh yeah, I like this one.”

That was, of course, a red flag for Ivy. She took back the card and peered at the inside, where her eyes widened. The tree on the cover was now a chopped stump with an ax resting on top of it.

A TREE DIED TO MAKE THIS CARD. MAKE THE MOST OF IT!

“Yeaaah...let’s just put this one back.” She set it back on the shelf—much to Maddie’s dismay—and presented the second one: above a picture of a bowl of grub were the words WELCOME BACK, LET’S CELEBRATE. FOOD’S ON YOU.

Maddie read it, then looked back to Ivy. “It’s funny,” said Ivy.

“Meh. The other one was funnier.”

“It’s a matter of presentation,” explained Ivy. “Imagine Sprig coming back, getting off that giant snail of his, then me jumping out of the crowd right at him, giving him a good headbutt, then handing him this card. Doesn’t that sound funny?”

“It sounds more like making a demand after assault.”

Ivy sighed. “Guess this one goes back on the shelf too.” She held up the final card, her last hope; what would either be her cardboard salvation or damnation. She gave it to Maddie, who hummed coarsely as she read it over.

It was a simple card, unlike the others. There was no punchline with this one, no dark humor or snark. There was only one message, as short as it was direct, written in black letters on the top:

I MISSED YOU.

Underneath that, the face of a smiling frog.

The corners of Maddie’s mouth twitched downwards slightly. “This one seems a bit...honest? Way too honest.”

Ivy sighed. “I know, but it’s the only one left. And...well...I think there’s something nice about being that honest,” she admitted bashfully.

“Whoa, Ivy," said Maddie, surprised, "never thought you were the kind of girl who would like something this."

“I know.” Ivy rubbed her arm timidly (something Maddie never thought she would ever describe Ivy Sundew as). “It’s just...well, I care about Sprig. Don’t you dare tell him I said this, but I really lo- _like_ him. And I want to let him know that, but I also don’t want to be too direct, so...so, you know...ahh, it’s hard to explain!”

“No, no, I understand.”

She really did. She understood more than anyone else in Wartwood what it was like to care about others, to want to be their friends, but to be unable to communicate that to them. It wasn’t easy for her to be friendly, not because she didn’t want to be, but because...well, because of the kind of frog she was. She liked magic and the macabre, she liked telling people what awaited them down the line, she liked the spooky image she had cultivated for herself. But everything came at a price, and her price was scaring potential friends away. Like Sprig, who thought she was a terrifyingly dangerous person for so long until he got to know her while they worked on breaking his curse.

And maybe Ivy was the same way. Maybe Ivy had built up such an image of being playfully tough and rowdy that it wasn’t easy for her to show her softer side. And this card was pure softness, pure fluff, and she would finally be presenting something like that to him...she would be breaking through her own image, and that was something Maddie had to admit she wasn’t too willing to do.

The realization hit her hard in the heart: Ivy really loved Sprig. Why else would she threaten her own image unless she felt that strongly for him?

At that moment of revelation, a rare miracle occurred: a warm smile slowly came to cover Maddie’s face, one that didn’t flicker quickly away. Whatever her feelings were about Sprig, she could sort them out later. All she needed to know now was that Ivy cared about Sprig, and if she was willing to be this brave, she had an obligation to support her.

“Ivy”—Maddie put a hand on the other frog’s shoulder and smiled at her—“I think that card is perfect.”

“Umm...Maddie...what’s wrong with your face?”

Until that moment, Maddie had forgotten how long it had been since she last smiled like that. So while in her head, it looked perfect, in reality it looked lopsided and messy.

She quickly wiped it off and croaked, “Nothing. Just buy the card.”

Ivy smiled, and pressed the card to her chest. “Thanks Maddie,” she said. "You've really been a big help."

Maddie fought back her blush. “Don’t thank me yet, I still haven’t made it magic. But...but you’re welcome.”

Thankfully, Ivy smiled hard enough for both of them.

The two girls went to the clerk’s desk, who looked at the card in Ivy’s hand. “That’ll be...five coppers,” he said.

Ivy reached into her pockets to pay, only for her eyes to widen comically. She giggled nervously, and the clerk looked down at them, unamused. “You do have five coppers, right?” he asked in a growl.

Ivy turned to Maddie, smiling anxiously. “Well, uh, this is embarrassing. I think I forgot the money at home. Do you have any?”

She didn’t. Her hands still went into her pockets and fished around, hoping to hit something metallic. When they didn’t, the clerk snarled angrily. He reached underneath his table to pull out a broom, but just before he could swat them, Maddie shouted, “Wait! I think I found something!”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Mouse, attack!”

From her pocket she flung her shrunken rodent right at the clerk’s face. He screamed as the mouse ran all over his face, and fell to the ground swinging his broom wildly. Maddie grabbed Ivy’s hand. “Let’s go,” she said. Just before they ran out the door, she called back to the clerk, “Sorry about this! I’ll come back for Mouse later, I’ll bring the coppers then!”

The clerk howled angrily as the two young girls ran off back to Ivy’s house.

* * *

“I feel a little bad about that.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” said Maddie as she sprinkled a scarlet powder inside the card. She closed it and looked up to Ivy. “He was about to hit us with a broom, and I told him I’d come back with the coppers later. It’s a win-win for everybody.”

Ivy shrugged. “I guess.”

“Alright, now watch this.” Maddie placed the card flat on the ground, and held her finger above it. She slowly began moving it clockwise, muttering in tongues underneath her breath. Ivy watched as her eyes began to glow, as the card began to glow, as the whole world began to glow…

“Okay, done,” said Maddie casually, as if she didn’t just summon the energies of eldritch universes to aid her.

“D-Did it work?”

“See for yourself.”

The card floated upwards in front of their eyes. It floated right to Ivy’s face and suddenly, in her voice, it said, “I missed you, Sprig.”

Ivy looked at Maddie, who just shrugged. “Sorry if you wanted something more, I just—”

“Are you crazy, Maddie? This is amazing!” said Ivy. “It’s more than enough.”

Maddie smirked lightly. “Glad you think so.”

She swiped some coppers Ivy had left out for her to take to the store, and made a move to leave. Before she got to the door, she heard Ivy call out, “Wait!”, so she turned around to look at her.

“So, um, I was thinking...if you’re not busy this weekend, do you maybe want to...hang out?”

“Hang out?”

“Yeah, I was thinki—”

Whatever Ivy was thinking, it would forever remain a mystery. Maddie interrupted her by grabbing her and pulling her towards her. With their faces close together, with Maddie staring into her new friend’s soul with penetrating eyes:

“I’d love to,” she rasped.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I did trail off there towards the end. In my defense, I was expecting this story to be about 3000 words, or at the very least below 4000. How foolish of me, lol. I also feel like I might have written Ivy in an OOC fashion, but I chalked it up to her acting differently when Sprig isn't around. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed.


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